


Cutting Out the Middle Man

by RosaleenBan



Category: Queer as Folk (UK)
Genre: First Time, Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 11:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosaleenBan/pseuds/RosaleenBan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stuart walks in on Vince having sex. He decides to join in. Then he throws out the middle man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cutting Out the Middle Man

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd, like at all. Still pretty awesome, I hope.

Stuart was pissed.

He knew it, he wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t notice the weave to his walk, or the slur to his words. The fuzzy feeling in his head that felt like sex and Vince and desire.  He knew he should go home, but the whiskey in his system was pushing him on – onward and upward – and the key in his hand told him he was welcome here.

Vince gave it to him, didn’t he? After Phil –

It was all Vince’s fault anyway. If Vince had been out tonight, had decided to go to his science-fiction convention on a night when Stuart didn’t have to show a client the town – and bringing married clients down to Canal Street was becoming uncomfortably regular these days – this wouldn’t be happening. But no, on a night when he couldn’t cop off, had to play the company game even at Babylon, Vince had to be a bloody anorak instead.

And fuck, but he wanted his best friend tonight. It wasn’t right, going full days without him – that hadn’t happened once in the months since Vince left Cameron, and he’d be fucked if he was going to let it happen tonight. Vince was _his._

The flat, when he finally managed to get past the slippery keys and the dodgy door, was dark. A long Tom Baker-style scarf wound its way over the top of the armchair and around to the floor, next to what looked like a sonic screwdriver.

That was Vince, the fanatic. Probably spent a full paycheck on Doctor Who memorabilia – he’d never ask for it, would he? Not even when Stuart would never notice the cost.

Vince should be home by now, so Stuart ignored the darkness and walked forward toward the bedroom. The twat was probably asleep. No matter that it only half-midnight, and no self-respecting queer man would be asleep now.

And even if Vince were, that would just be an excuse to crawl into the bed with him until he woke up, wouldn’t it?

He didn’t find a sleeping Vince on the bed, though. Though no lights were on, the scene was clear to Stuart: Vince was nude kneeling on his bed, a tall, well-muscled bloke stretched out beneath him. Stuart paid no mind to the shag; Vince took over his entire awareness.

Currently, Vince was pinning the man down with one hand on each thigh, his mouth doing truly intriguing things to the other man’s cock.

Slowly, as silently as he could, Stuart started to remove his kit. Neither noticed him yet, and he was able to get the whole of it off before creeping up to the bed. He took a moment to admire the swift, skilled motions of Vince’s tongue as it flicked over the other man.

“Vince,” he purred, putting on hand on Vince’s back, just between his shoulder blades.

Vince jumped back, surprised.

“Shh,” Stuart said, keeping his voice steady. “Keep going. Let me see you get him off, Vince.”

Vince must have been drunk, high or both, because he didn’t need any more convincing. He happily returned to his task, making the other man writhe and moan beneath him.

Stuart watched for a moment before climbing onto the bed behind Vince. As hot as the show was, he needed more. He needed to be a part of it – to feel Vince.

He draped himself over his mate, his mouth at his ear. “I’m going to make you feel so good, Vince,” he murmured. “Let me make you feel good. Please.”

He waited a long moment before Vince raised his head and whispered, “Please.”

That was all the confirmation Stuart needed. Slowly, he kissed his way down Vince’s back, alternating between his spine and his sides. He hadn’t thought Vince would be so firm, and even his surprisingly toned back called to Stuart, urging him on.

It only took a minute to arrive at his destination, and he pushed Vince’s cheeks apart greedily. This was new – this was something of Vince’s he had never had before, something he wanted. Had wanted for ages, if he was honest with himself, which he rarely was.

He gently pressed his tongue to Vince’s opening, eliciting a guttural moan from his mate. Good. He wanted to hear him; wanted him to know he was Stuart’s, always. Wanted to make him feel it, maybe even make him beg.

Or maybe the begging would come next time. Once they crossed this boundary there was no going back; there would be plenty of next times.

He took his time pressing into Vince with his tongue, slowly relaxing and stretching the muscles there. Each time he pressed further, Vince let out a strangled moan around the cock in his mouth and pressed back against Stuart, begging for more.

Hell, even Stuart wanted to beg for more at this point.

A bottle of lube was sitting on one bedside table, and Stuart reached for it urgently. Not moving his mouth, he slicked up one hand. He was skilled at this; he’d had fifteen years to practice for this moment. Here and now, though, this was the real thing. The first real shag, finally out of dress rehearsal.

 Smoothly, expertly, he pulled away with his mouth and pushed in with one finger. Just enough to let Vince know there was more; that he had the reach to tease his prostate, even if he wasn’t going there yet. Instead, he just played, trying to see how wonton he could make Vince.

He was the first to see the other bloke coming. He was built, really, and all those lovely muscles contracted at once under Vince’s ministrations. He came in Vince’s mouth.

He would be the last beside Stuart.

“Out,” Stuart commanded as soon as the shag caught his breath, and really he was lucky to get that long.

“Oi, and who are you?” the other man challenged.

“Now,” Stuart said, his voice firm and eyes icy even as he added another finger to his prep.

“Please,” Vince panted beneath him. “Another time, yeah?”

“Never again,” Stuart corrected. “Now out.”

The man looked between Stuart and Vince. After a few seconds he finally figured out his place in all of this and slipped off the bed. “Fine, then. Nice time, hope you have fun,” he said flatly, picking up his things from the floor. “Don’t bother calling.”

“He won’t,” Stuart affirmed before turning his attention back on Vince. He knew his mate preferred to bottom, but he was getting jealous of the blokes he’d shagged recently. Vince was already accepting a third finger and begging for more.

“Stuart,” Vince moaned beneath him. “What –”

“Shhh, turn around for me, Vince. On your back. I want to see you,” Stuart said, all of his attention back on Vince.

Vince was nothing if not eager. He didn’t even wait for Stuart to move his fingers, just twisted around them until he was on his back. “But –”

“D’you want this, Vince?” Stuart asked reaching for a condom.

“Yes,” Vince moaned. “God, yes.”

“Good,” Stuart said, sheathing himself. “I want to hear you, Vince. Don’t hold back, promise?”

“Yeah, Stuart,” Vince breathed. “Please.”

Stuart removed his fingers and pushed himself into Vince. He was so slick, so ready for him, Stuart almost came right there.

He knew it wouldn’t last long, but he held on for all it was worth. He wanted to savor this, _Vince._

“Want you, Vince,” he growled, not thinking, just feeling _everything._ “Want you so bad. Always have.”

“Stuart, please,” Vince begged, pushed back against Stuart. “More.”

Stuart picked up the pace, angling himself to hit Vince’s prostate each time. His hands wandered over Vince’s body, exploring the well defined pectorals and biceps, the soft paunch around his stomach, the legs that had somehow wound themselves around his neck – every inch of skin he could reach.

“Love you,” Stuart said, finally wrapping his still-slick fingers around Vince’s cock. “Always loved you.”

“Stuart –” Vince began, but then he was gone, coming all over Stuart’s hand.

Stuart wasn’t far behind; he gave himself one last thrust before coming in Vince.

He collapsed after that, unwilling to move, though he knew he should. It took him longer than was probably comfortable for Vince to finally pull out and remove the condom.

After he disposed of it, he let his head fall onto Vince’s shoulder.

“Mmm,” he hummed, placing kisses along Vince’s collarbone. “Mine.”

“Stuart, what are you like?” Vince asked, snaking his arms around him in an embrace.

“What do you think?” he asked, not condescending to give the obvious answer.

“I – it was lovely, really, Stuart, but what is this in aid of?” Vince asked, his hands starting to pull away.

Stuart caught the one closest to his own hands and held it there. “Cut out the middle man, Vince,” he said by way of an explanation. Vince should know these things, he should understand. That’s why he was Vince.

The hands crept back over his skin, pulling him tighter. “You’re a right tosser, you know that, Stuart?”

“Love you,” Stuart told him. Really, did they have to have this conversation? Didn’t Vince know?

His hands stilled at that. “Really? Stuart, you’re not taking the piss?”

Stuart sighed and lifted his head. “Yes, really. Why else would I be shagging you, you great twat? Now relax and let me enjoy this.”

That earned him a laugh. Vince really was a twat, but he was his twat and he would deal with it.

“I love you, too, Stuart,” Vince said, pulling him close again.

“Good,” Stuart sighed.

“Just,” Vince started hesitantly, looking for his words. “No middle man next time, yeah?”

Stuart laughed this time. “No middle man,” he agreed. “Never again.”


End file.
